


25 Days of Christmas

by sara_wolfe



Category: Charmed, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Once Upon a Time (TV), Smallville
Genre: Bedtime Stories, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Pre-Slash, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-fandom Christmas-themed prompt challenge. Writing everything under the sun, from humor, to angst, to the just plain bizarre. And more than a few bits of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not-So-Common Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Smallville; Superheroes (of any fashion) dealing with head colds (or similar mild ailment they can't get rid of).

"By dose is all stuffed ub."

Lois swallowed the laugh that threatened to escape as she looked at the utterly miserable expression in her husband's red-rimmed eyes. She could hear a noisy whistle as he tried to breathe through a clogged nose, and he had a wadded-up Kleenex clutched in his hand. 

"We're out of tissues," Clark told her, brandishing the empty box at her. "I can't stob snee-" A huge sneeze ripped though the air, hastily muffled by the Kleenex. "Can't stob sneezing," he finished, morosely. 

"There's more on top of the fridge," Lois told him, ducking into the kitchen and grabbing one of the boxes. 

She came back into the living room in time to see Clark incinerating the used Kleenex with a quick burst of his heat vision, fine gray ash falling through his fingers to the floor. Lois cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation. 

"Don't want any germs sticking around," he told her, with a pointed look at her still-flat stomach. 

Lois couldn't blame him for that one. When Kara had come home for a visit from the future, neither of them had expected her to bring a Kryptonian virus with her, or for Clark to catch it. The last thing they needed was their unborn baby exposed to it, too. 

"Have you been doing that to all the tissues you use?" she said, instead, and Clark nodded in response. Lois sighed. "I guess that means I'm going to be doing a lot of vacuuming," she muttered. From the guilty flush that lit Clark's cheeks, he'd heard her, anyway. Apparently the virus hadn't done anything to mess with his hearing. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, and he looked so pathetic that Lois couldn't hold onto even a brief flash of annoyance. 

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him. "I'll make Kara do it," she added, in a burst of sudden inspiration. "She's the one who got you sick, after all."

"Kara blew ub Mom's vacuum the last time she tried," Clark warned her. "Twice."

Lois just sighed, shaking her head. "Come on," she told Clark. "Let's get you tucked into bed."

"Work," Clark protested, weakly, but he didn't fight as Lois towed him to their bedroom and settled in the bed. 

"Leave the journalism to me," Lois told him. "You need to rest." 

But, her words fell on deaf ears, because Clark had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. Lois tucked the blankets around his shoulders and dropped a kiss onto his temple, creeping silently out of the room. She scrawled a quick note to remind him that she'd gone into work, pinning it to the message board with a tack, and then she slipped out of the apartment and rode the elevator down to the garage. 

She made it to the Planet in plenty of time, and immediately got down to business. But, she couldn't keep her mind on the copy in front of her. Her desk felt empty without Clark sitting across from her, and her mind kept drifting back to the sick man sleeping in the apartment. 

Clark had only gotten sick once before, and that had been with a regular, human cold that had hit him because he'd been pushing himself too hard, and it had vanished as soon as his strength had come back. And he'd been around human illnesses pretty much his entire life, even with his powers to shield him from the effects. 

This was a Kryptonian virus that he'd never been exposed to before. Kara insisted that it was only a minor illness, easily beaten by children, but Lois had seen her mother hospitalized for nearly a week by late-onset chicken pox, and the thought of seeing Clark like that terrified her. She couldn't lose him. 

She managed half a day of work before she couldn't stand it any longer. She shamelessly pleaded morning sickness to get Perry to let her go home early, and then she broke more than a few traffic laws speeding home. Lois knew she was probably being ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. She needed to know that Clark was okay. 

The apartment was too quiet when she entered, and for a second, her heart stopped in her chest. Then, she heard a faint, familiar whistle coming from the other room and her shoulders sagged as she let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding in. She moved into the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe as she watched Clark sleep. 

Shelby was curled up on the bed beside Clark, his head resting on the sleeping man's chest, and the dog opened his eyes as Lois toed off her heels and padded silently over to the bed. Shelby shifted to the foot of the bed, tail wagging, as she sat down. 

"You been keeping an eye on him for me?" Lois asked, softly, and Shelby huffed out a satisfied sigh, resting his chin on Clark's ankle. Lois scratched the dog behind his ears before she curled up next to Clark. 

She draped an arm across Clark's chest, pillowing her head on his shoulder. Clark stirred at her touch, opening blurry eyes to look at her in confusion. 

"Why aren't you at work?" he mumbled, and Lois breathed a sigh of relief at hearing how much better his voice sounded even than earlier that morning. 

"Because I wanted to be with you," she told him. 

"Don't want to get the baby sick," Clark protested, but his arms snaked around her waist as he curled up against her. One hand rested protectively over her stomach. 

"The baby's going to be fine," Lois reassured him. "I'll get up in a bit," she promised. "Just give me this. Just for a minute."

Clark's only response was a quiet sigh as his eyes drifted closed and he fell back asleep. Lois snuggled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart for the rest of the afternoon.


	2. Helping Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Exotic side effects of magical maladies.

"It's called orb sickness."

Paige lifted her head from her arms long enough to glare at Leo. Then, she lurched forward to throw up into the toilet, retching miserably. The heaving continued even after she had nothing left in her stomach, and when she was done, her back and stomach hurt so much she wanted to curl up in a tiny ball. But she didn't have the energy to move. 

"I feel like I'm dying," she rasped out, when she thought she could safely talk. "Why can't you heal me?"

"Because it's not an actual illness, per se," Leo hedged. "You were already run down because you've been pushing yourself and not sleeping-" he shot her a pointed look that she chose to ignore, "and you haven't given yourself a chance to get back to full strength. Orbing takes even more of your energy, until you're tapping your magical core to do it. Drain enough energy, and you make yourself physically ill."

"That's not an answer," Paige told him. 

Leo sighed. "I can't heal you because there's nothing to heal," he replied. "There's no virus in your system, no physical wounds, nothing for my healing to affect. You just need to let yourself rest, and get your strength back."

"Right," Paige muttered. "I'll just tell the demons we've gone on vacation. That should solve all our problems."

"Paige, you can't take all of this on yourself." Leo sounded frustrated, like he had every time he'd mentioned how tired she'd looked over the last couple of weeks. Paige idly wondered if she would have done anything differently if she'd known that this would be the result. Probably not. 

"Phoebe is stressed beyond belief with everything that's going on with Cole," she told Leo. "She doesn't need anything else on her plate, right now. And the last thing I'm going to do is ask my pregnant sister to put her unborn baby at risk fighting demons."

"Paige-"

Paige didn't even let Leo finish. "Consider it an early Christmas present."

"We haven't even hit Thanksgiving, yet," Leo pointed out. 

Paige ignored him in favor of pushing herself up on unsteady legs. She wobbled as she tried to find her balance, but she didn't fall over, and she was going to consider that one a win. Her stomach had tentatively settled for the moment, and she slowly made her way to the bathroom door. Leo was blocking the doorway, but he moved out of her way after a moment. 

Paige stumbled past him and down the hallway toward the stairs. She made it down the stairs in on piece, and then she headed for the kitchen. The ginger ale she'd been nursing all morning was still sitting on the counter, and she took a tentative sip, and then a larger one when her stomach didn't immediately rebel. She'd been working on a potion before the nausea struck, and the sour smell coming from the saucepan almost made her want to get sick, again. She didn't even have to look inside to know that the potion was completely ruined. 

Paige scowled as she dumped the burned potion in the trash. Turning the burner on low to keep from setting the kitchen on fire, she pulled more ingredients out of the cupboards and started working, again. She'd just started slicing another ginger root when Leo's hand dropped over hers, stilling the knife. She whipped her head around to stare at him, but before she could protest, he'd gently pulled the knife from her embarrassingly-shaky grip and shouldered her out of the way. 

"You need to rest," Leo told her, before she could say anything. 

"I _need_ to get those potions done," Paige protested. 

She tried to orb the knife out of his hand and back into her own, but the knife flickered into orbs for a second, and then reformed still in Leo's hand. He shot her a wordless, knowing look. 

"I'll do it," Leo replied, calmly. 

Paige could only stare at him. "…What?"

"You go rest. I've got this." Leo took over the slicing with a surprising efficiency."

"Where did you learn to use a knife like that?" Paige managed, getting a chuckle from Leo. 

"Field medic in the army," he reminded her. "I wielded my fair share of scalpels during the War. If you're not going to rest, would you at least sit down?" He shot her a sharp look, raising an eyebrow in the direction of one of the chairs. 

Paige sank into a chair, resting her heels on the highest rung and leaning forward on her knees. A bottle of water was thunked down on the table beside her, and Paige unscrewed the cap and took a hefty swallow before Leo had to goad her into it. Toast followed, and Paige shot Leo a suspicious look, but he'd turned his attention back to the potion to keep it from spoiling. The protest died in her throat as she nibbled at the toast. 

"Why are you making potions for me?" she finally asked. 

"Because I'm your Whitelighter, and I'm supposed to protect you," Leo told her. "Even from yourself, sometimes." Shooting her a grin, he added, "Just consider this an early Christmas present."


	3. Written By the Victors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Any fandom, the heroes' stories being warped over the years. Do their actions get misappropriated to someone else, or exaggerated? Are they remembered as gods or demons? History is written by the victors, after all...

Regina sighed at the sound of feet scuffling outside her office. She didn't even have to look to know exactly who was lurking outside her door. 

"Didn't I already put you to bed once, tonight?"

Henry peeked around the corner of the doorframe, a sheepish expression on his face. His long hair flopped in front of his eyes and he puffed out a quick breath that barely budged the stubborn lock. Regina knew that she should have cut his hair a while ago, but he was just so adorable…

Regina shook herself out of the daze she'd fallen into. She couldn't – wouldn't – allow sentimentality over some hair to make her weak. As much as she loved her son, she'd fought too hard and too long to get where she was right now. And she wasn't going to let anything endanger that. 

"I'm not tired," Henry told her, a hint of a whine in his voice. "Can't I stay up for just a little while longer? Please? I want to see Santa come."

Regina refused to let herself by charmed by the puppy-dog eyes her son was currently giving her. "No. Go back to bed, Henry."

"But, it's Christmas Eve-"

"Now." 

She knew Henry heard the steel in his voice by the way he flinched back from the doorway. His lower lip trembled as he fought back tears, and for a moment, she thought he was going to argue with her. Then his shoulders slumped and he shuffled off to his bedroom. She could hear the petulant sound of his footsteps stomping on the stairs, and she could just imagine him pouting the whole way to his room, hiding under his blankets, staring morosely at the ceiling…

Biting back a curse, Regina pushed her paperwork away and stormed up the stairs. She didn't know who she was really angry at, herself or Henry, but her anger melted away when she reached Henry's room to find her son curled in a tight ball under his blankets, his shoulders shaking minutely. The sound of sob sobs reached her ears, and she had to force down the impulse to run to Henry's side and hold him until he stopped crying. Compassion was weakness, and the sooner Henry learned that, the better. Her mother had been more than eager to teach her the same lesson, and she'd been even younger than Henry. 

But she couldn't help the stab of pain that shot straight through her heart at the sound of her son so upset. She took an instinctive step into the room, freezing when Henry heard her and rolled over in bed, staring at her through watery eyes. 

"Mommy?" he whispered, and he looked so happy to see her that her resolve started to crack. 

"Would a bedtime story help you sleep?" The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she was going to speak, but she couldn't bring herself to take them back, not when Henry practically lit up with joy. 

"Yeah!" Henry was practically bouncing in place as she moved to the bed, sitting down beside him. 

Regina smoothed down the blankets covering him, biding for time. She had no idea where the offer had come from, no idea what she was going to tell him. She didn't know any bedtime stories, unless…

"Once upon a time." That was how these things started, right? She shot Henry a sidelong look, but he was watching her with rapt attention. Her courage bolstered, she started again. 

"Once upon a time, there lived a lonely queen. She used to be happy, and she used to laugh, but then she lost all the love in her life, and then she was all alone."

"Is this going to be a happy story?" Henry sounded worried, like she was going to say no. Regina gave him a reassuring smile. 

"Very happy," she told him. "So, the lonely queen had no friends, no family, no one. And it was all the fault of her evil stepdaughter and the wicked prince. See, the lonely queen had been in love, once, with a good, gentle man. They were going to run away and be happy, far away from everyone who wanted to hurt them. But the queen's evil stepdaughter had the man killed, because she was selfish and she wanted to keep the lonely queen all to herself."

Henry shivered, snuggling closer to Regina. "She sounds horrible," he whispered. 

"Very horrible," Regina agreed, biting back a smirk. She absently wrapped an arm around Henry's shoulders as she continued. "She even killed her own father, the queen's husband, because she didn't want the queen to be happy. The queen should have locked her evil stepdaughter away, in a dark cell where she could never hurt anyone ever again, but she was merciful, and she merely banished her stepdaughter from the kingdom. 

"In return for her benevolence, the evil stepdaughter joined forces with the wicked prince of another kingdom, and they attacked the lonely queen. They locked her in a cell, and they were going to kill her."

Henry's eyes were wide. "What did she do?" 

"The lonely queen used her magic to escape her prison cell," Regina told him. "She fled to her castle, where she was safe, and then she turned to her friend, a powerful wizard, for help. The wizard gave her a spell that she could use to save herself from her evil stepdaughter and the wicked prince. He told her that if she used the spell, she would find herself in a brand-new world, one where no one could hurt her."

"Did she use the spell?" Henry asked, an anxious tone in his voice. 

"She did," Regina replied, a smile tugging at her lips. "She used the spell, and she found a new world, one where she had a loving family. A son," she added, softly. "And she loved him very much."

"And they lived happily ever after," Henry chimed in, sinking down into the blankets as Regina tucked him in. 

"They did," Regina said, quietly, brushing a kiss across his forehead. "The queen and her son lived happily ever after."


	4. Comforts of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Let's go for something fluffy - Tess reading Alexander a bedtime story? I'd settle for Tess reading/telling anyone a bedtime story, to be honest, or someone doing the same to her. So, Tess. And bedtime stories.
> 
> This kind of turned into an AU, where Tess never died, and season eleven never happened.

"Are you sure you've got everything you need?"

Conner resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the worry in Clark's tone. "It's not like I couldn't run home and get anything I need in about two seconds," he reminded the older man. 

" No running home in two seconds," Clark told him. "You're supposed to be an ordinary college student."

"So I'll make sure to bring home my laundry when I come home for Christmas break," Conner teased him. "Just like an ordinary college student."

"Don't let Lois touch it," Clark warned him. "She got distracted with work last week, and tossed my cape in with the white load. It didn't turn out well."

Conner snorted out a laugh. "All your underwear is pink, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." 

Conner chuckled at the pained look on Clark's face. "Why are you so worried about my stuff?" he asked, gesturing at the two dozen boxes that surrounded them. "You and Lois packed practically half the house into the truck. The last thing I need is more stuff." He shot Clark a suspicious look. "What's really going on?"

Clark sighed, a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm just worried about you," he admitted. "You're starting college, and you're going to be by yourself-"

"I'm in a dorm surrounded by-" Conner trailed off, cocking his head to the side as he listened to the sounds of the other people moving around the building, "-surrounded by about thirty other people-"

"Thirty-two," Clark interjected, and Conner took a moment to wonder if he'd ever get as good at using his powers as Clark was. 

"Thirty-two people," he corrected himself, "and more are coming in every day, and I have these really awesome superpowers. I think I'm gonna be fine."

"If you're sure-" 

"I'm positive," Conner said, firmly. He hugged Clark, and then pushed him toward the door. "Go, already, before you start trying to redecorate."

Clark left, and Conner watched the truck drive away from the window. He spent the next couple of hours getting his things out of boxes and setting up his half of the room. And then he wandered down to the main rec room on the first floor. There were a few people downstairs, but they were already in their own groups, and he didn't know how to interject himself into any of the conversations. He'd done okay at the whole social interaction thing at Smallville High, but being outgoing with complete strangers still didn't come easily to him. After hovering awkwardly in the doorway for a couple of minutes, Conner fled back to the peace of his new room. 

He flopped on his bed, sighing morosely as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't want to admit that he was homesick, but he'd gotten used to the sound of playful bickering as Lois and Clark worked on their articles, the smell of breakfast cooking, Shelby jumping on his bed to wake him up in the morning…okay, he was homesick. 

Then, as he looked around the half-empty room, his gaze fell on the League communicator sitting on his desk. He reached over and snagged the earpiece, sliding it in and turning it on. Ambient noise filled his ears for a second, and then Tess's voice as she spoke. 

"This is Watchtower; I've got your signal. Conner, what's the emergency?"

"No emergency," Conner hastened to reassure her, and Tess sighed. 

"Conner, you are aware that you have this communicator for emergencies only?" she reminded him. 

"I know," Conner said, sheepishly. "Is the League working tonight?" he asked, guiltily wondering if he was interrupting something important. 

"Just routine patrols," Tess told him. "So, if it's not an emergency, what's up?"

"I don't know," Conner admitted. "I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. It's-" He trailed off before finishing the thought, but Tess had no trouble knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Lonely?" she asked, knowingly. "Yeah, I felt the same way when I first started college." 

"Yeah, I mean, my roommate's not here, yet, and it's kind of hard to relate to the other people in the dorm, what with the whole half-alien lab experiment thing I've got going on." Conner tried to keep his voice light, but he was sure that Tess could hear the tension underneath the words. 

"Did you want to talk to Clark?" she asked, sounding concerned. "I can patch you through to his comm if you want."

"No, no," Conner said, quickly. It was probably his pride talking, but after insisting to Clark that he was fine, he didn't want to admit so soon that he'd been wrong. "Um, can you just talk to me for a little bit?"

"Sure," Tess agreed. "What do you want to talk about?"

Well, that idea had backfired quickly. "Um-"

"How about I tell you a story?" Tess's voice was warm, and Conner could almost hear the smile in her voice. 

"Aren't I a little too old for bedtime stories?" he asked. 

"No one is too old for bedtime stories," Tess told him. 

"Well, it's hard to argue with logic like that." Conner leaned back against his pillows, closing his eyes and lacing his hands together behind his head. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Don't sound so skeptical; you're going to like this one," Tess scolded, lightly. Her voice taking on a sing-song quality, she continued, "All children, except one, grow up…"


	5. Christmas Eve in New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, despite the title, this failed to be a 25 Days of Christmas fic. I'm still going to write every single one of these prompts, though. Even if it kills me. 
> 
> Prompt: Any fandom, any characters, seeing the Nutcracker.

"Danno, you can't give me a present, yet. It's not Christmas."

Steve hid his grin behind his hand at the completely serious look on Grace's face. The little girl had her arms crossed over her chest and was frowning at the envelope in her father's hand. 

"She's like this every year," Danny confided to Steve. "Refuses to open any of her presents early and wants to save all of them for the big day."

"It's called savoring the anticipation," Grace said, matter-of-factly, in a far-too-adult tone sounded like Rachel in miniature. Rachel had probably said the exact same thing to Danny at least once, now that Steve thought about it, and he let out a short bark of laughter that quickly turned into a cough when his partner shot him a suspicious look. 

"It's Christmas," Danny protested. 

"Danno used to wake me up early on Christmas so we could open presents," Grace told Steve. "Mom wanted us to wait until after breakfast, but Danno would always sneak one before she could stop him."

Danny just grinned, unrepentantly. "This isn't a Christmas present, though," he said, waving the envelope in his hand. "This is a pre-Christmas present, which means that you can open it right now."

He dangled the envelope enticingly in front of Grace, who couldn't quite hide the excitement on her face when Danny had called it a pre-Christmas present. She plucked it from his hand, sliding her finger carefully under the tucked-in flap and pulling out some thin pieces of paper. Then, her eyes went impossibly wide, and she let out a strangled squeak. 

"Danno!"

"Merry pre-Christmas, Monkey," Danny said, affectionately, and Grace squealed again, launching herself at her father and wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" Grace hung on for a few seconds longer, and then abruptly let go, still clutching the paper in her hand. "I gotta go call Mom and tell her! I'll be right back!"

Steve stared in amazement as the girl bolted from the room, still singing Danny's praises as she disappeared down the hall to her room. When he heard her bedroom door shut, he turned to look at his partner. 

"Okay, what is on those papers?" he asked, stunned. "Grace is acting like you just pulled a star down out of the sky for her."

"Ballet tickets," Danny told him, much to his surprise. "Before the divorce, Rachel and I saved up all year and bought tickets to go see a performance of the Nutcracker by the New York City Ballet. Grace loved it so much that I promised her that we'd do it again one day."

There was a sudden shriek from down the hall, and then Grace came tearing back into the room, clutching the tickets in her hand. "They're for Christmas Eve!" She whooped, happily, and then went charging back to her room, probably to let every one of her friends know about her new plans for Christmas. 

"You're taking Grace to New York over Christmas?" Steve asked. "And Rachel's okay with that?"

"The last couple of years," Danny replied, "Grace and I have had to celebrate Christmas late because I've had to work. When I told Rachel I was trying to get the tickets, she was the one to suggest the day so that Grace and I could get to spend Christmas together. Besides," he added, sounding sheepish, "she said that maybe if I'm not on the island, I won't wind up investigating a murder again."

"Have you considered the possibility that you'll wind up investigating a murder in New York?" Steve teased him. 

"That's why I'm hoping you'll come with us," Danny told him. Steve shot him a confused look, and Danny elaborated. "I bought the tickets back when Gabby and I were still together, and obviously we're not anymore, and that third ticket is just going to go to waste, otherwise…"

"Sure," Steve said, when Danny trailed off. "A night at the ballet sounds like fun."

* * *

The flight from Honolulu to New York was hardly the worst thing Steve had ever experienced, but after two scheduled layovers, one emergency stop for refueling, and nearly fifteen hours in the air (almost half of which were spent across the aisle from a colicky baby and his sleep-deprived parents), Steve couldn't manage to list anything worse. 

Grace had somehow managed to fall asleep during the flight, so Steve took care of their bags while Danny carried her from the plane. They'd packed light because none of them wanted to deal with the baggage claim, and so the only thing they had to do after getting off the plane was catch a taxi to their hotel. Steve had mentioned renting a car but Danny had pointed out that everything in New York was within walking distance to everything else, and renting a car would probably just slow them down, considering how bad the traffic could be. 

It was late when they got to the hotel but they checked in with relative ease and went up to the room. Steve raised an eyebrow at the two beds in the room, but then he remembered that Danny had originally planned the trip with Gabby. He shot his partner a sidelong glance but there was no sign of regret on Danny's face, only a fleeting, wistful expression that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Sorry it's so small," he said, as they moved into the room. "I splurged on the tickets which didn't leave a lot of money for the extras. Besides, it's only for a night, and then we're going to drive to Jersey and spend Christmas Day with my parents." He paused, clearly realizing that this was the first time he'd clued Steve into that part of the plan. "Um…"

"Like I'm going to pass up the chance to meet your parents," Steve told him. "You taking the bed by the door or the window?"

In reply, Danny tucked Grace into the bed nearest the door, smoothing the blankets over her and dropping a kiss onto her forehead. He took the bags Steve held out to him, opening one and pulling out a pair of soft pants and a faded tee shirt. He disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a couple minutes later dressed for sleep. Steve followed his example, settling into the empty bed by the window and propping the pillows behind his head. 

"Hey, Danno?" 

When there was no answer, he thought that his partner had already fallen asleep, but then he heard a quiet, "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry you couldn't come here with Gabby," he replied. "I know you two were-"

"I made my peace a while ago about how things turned out with Gabby," Danny told him. "Yeah, I mean, there was a time when I thought I saw a future for us, but it just didn't work out. Things happen, you know." 

"Things 'happened' with me and Cath," Steve confessed, after a long moment of silence. "We've decided that maybe being just friends is for the best."

"I'm sorry," Danny replied, and Steve shrugged. Ending things with Cath had hurt, but they'd been heading toward an ending for a while, now. It had just taken time for both of them to acknowledge it. 

"So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Steve asked, deliberately changing the subject. He may have accepted his breakup with Cath, but he still didn't really want to talk about it more than he had to. 

"Wake up at a decent time and try not to be jetlagged by the time the ballet starts," Danny told him. "I figured Grace would want to window shop for a little while. The performance starts at five, we'll want to be at the theater earlier. It's going to be a long day, tomorrow."

"So you're telling me to go to sleep," Steve said, and Danny chuckled. 

"Good night, Steve," he said, pointedly. 

"Night, Danno," Steve said, and then he drifted off listening to the sound of Danny light snore and Grace's even, quiet breathing.

* * *

Despite the late night, they were all still on Hawaii time, and no one could sleep very late. Having slept on the plane, Grace was the first one awake, and her enthusiasm quickly roused Steve and Danny. Quick showers and a breakfast of bagels from the deli on the corner, and then they set off on a morning of sightseeing. 

Grace talked them into a trip to FAO Schwartz – although that wasn't hard considering that Danny and Steve were acting like a couple of big kids, themselves. Steve actually had to be persuaded not to buy out as much of the store as he and Grace could carry, but Grace did wind up walking out the door with a teddy bear nearly as big as her. 

They spent the rest of the morning walking idly around New York; they hadn't stumbled upon any murders (yet, Steve couldn't help but think), but they stopped three muggings, including one young man who had pegged them as tourists and easy marks. Thirty seconds later, after he found himself face-down on the concrete with Danny's foot squarely in the center of his back and his knife in Steve's hands, he was quick to revise that opinion. 

"Better life choices," Danny told the kid as he hauled him to his feet. "You really need to think about making some."

They turned their would-be thief over to the cops, filling out the required witness reports. Captain Donner, who'd been there the first two times they'd brought in the muggers, just groaned when he saw them. 

"Should I be deputizing the two of you?" he asked, walking over to where they were filling out the reports.

"We're on vacation," Steve protested. 

"I'd hate to see you two when you're on the job," Donner muttered, and Danny chuckled. 

"This is actually pretty mild for our vacations," he told Donner, who just shook his head in exasperation. 

"Get out of my precinct," he said, snatching the finished reports off the desk. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want to see you people again."

"Ditto." Steve held the door open for Danny and Grace to precede him outside. "See you later, Captain."

"Are we going to be late for the ballet?" Grace was asking Danny as Steve joined them on the sidewalk. 

"We've got time," Danny reassured her. "We do need to get going, though." He flagged down a taxi with practiced ease, holding the door open for Grace and Steve. Giving the driver the name of their hotel, he sat back to enjoy the ride. 

Back at the hotel, they changed quickly into the formal wear they'd brought with them. Grace was twirling in front of the bathroom mirror while Steve put a last shine on his shoes and Danny wrestled with his tie. Steve watched him in amusement for a few seconds before crossing the room and swatting the other man's hands away from the strip of cloth around his throat. 

"You wear all those ties for work, but you're baffled by the intricacies of a bow tie?" he teased Danny, as he deftly knotted the tie, testing to make sure it wasn't too tight. 

"It's a different knot," Danny muttered, defensively, a pink tinge lighting up his cheeks. 

"I remember you wearing a tie in your wedding photos," Steve pointed out. "How'd you get that one tied?"

"I don't want to talk about that," Danny muttered. 

"Mommy tied it for him," Grace called out in a cheerful sing-song, poking her head out of the bathroom. "She said Danno was so nervous that his hands were shaking too badly to make the knot."

Now that he thought about it, Steve did remember a tremor in Danny's hands as he tried to fix his tie. He wondered what his partner could possibly have to be nervous about, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of the other man. He kept the question in the back of his mind for later, though. 

"Are we walking to the Lincoln Center?" Steve asked, as they headed out of the room and down the elevator to the lobby. 

"And risk another mugging?" Danny pointed out. "Stopping three crimes on my vacation is my limit, thank you very much." He hailed a taxi as they stepped outside the hotel. "Lincoln Center, please," he told the driver as they climbed inside. 

The drive to the theater was quick, which was surprising considering how much traffic there was around Lincoln Center. Several hundred people were standing outside the theater and in the promenade as they got out of the taxi, and when they made their way inside, they were greeted by the sight of at least a thousand more. Steve didn't generally consider himself claustrophobic, not after so many years spent living on Navy ships, but the sight of so many people still had him instinctively grabbing for Grace's hand to make sure that he could keep track of her. He was gratified to see Danny holding her other hand, keeping his daughter safely sandwiched between them. 

"Where are our seats?" Steve asked, pitching his voice to be heard above the crush of people surrounding them. 

"Fourth ring," was Danny's answer, as he led them toward the stairs. 

"Isn't that a little high up?" Steve asked. He'd looked at some pictures of the theater on the plane, from a book Grace had brought with her, and he'd imagined that Danny would have gotten seats closer to the stage. 

"Philistine," Danny said, affection in his voice. "Fourth ring has the best seats in the house."

Steve had to agree with him, once they actually found their seats. They were sitting right at the edge of the balcony, and when he looked down he could see the entire stage, completely unimpeded. As he sat back in his seat, he caught Danny giving him a smug look. He could practically hear the other man's 'told you so'.

"These really are the best seats in the house," he admitted, not even bothering to hide his grin when he saw the positively gleeful smile that lit up Danny's face. 

Before Danny could say anything though, the house lights went dark, leaving only the stage illuminated. Grace gasped in excitement, reaching across Danny to grab his closest hand.

"It's starting!" she squealed in a hushed whisper. "Uncle Steve, look!"

"Yeah," Steve agreed, quietly. 

On stage, the curtain rose, revealing for the first time the intricate sets and the beautifully-clad dancers. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the first strains of music swept through the theater. 

"It's amazing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper to keep from disturbing the peace that had fallen over the theater. "Danno, thank you. For inviting me along, for-" 

He trailed off, unsure how to put everything he was feeling into words. He and Danny had been dancing around this unspoken thing between them for a while now, even with Gabby and Cath in their lives, but neither of them had actually acknowledged it. At times, Steve sometimes wondered if he was just making a mountain out a molehill that had never existed in the first place, but then he caught Danny looking at him with an almost-indescribable look in his eyes, something warm and affectionate that Steve wasn't sure he was ready to put a name to. 

Kind of like the way Danny was looking at him right now. 

Danny reached out and snagged Steve's free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and capturing his attention before he could look away. Not that Steve could tear himself away from the look in Danny's eyes, anyway. 

"No one else I'd rather share it with," Danny told him.


End file.
